What happens in the storage closet
by samsamtastic
Summary: Arthur's tie has gone missing... Eames/Arthur, slash


**Title:** What happens in the storage closet...  
><strong>Fandom:<strong> Inception  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own or pretend to even comprehend anything to do with Inception.  
><strong>Pairing:<strong> Eames/Arthur  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG:13  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> slash, mentions of sex, kissing  
><strong>Summary:<strong>Arthur's tie has gone missing...

This was inspired by this fantastic picture http : / / rahly-furverted .livejournal . com / 32521 . html # cutid2

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><p>"Arthur, what's wrong with your neck?" Ariadne asked suddenly, interrupting Arthur's detailed presentation to her about their latest job offer and what sort of maze they would need for the extraction. He narrowed his eyes, annoyed at having to stop in the middle of a sentence.<p>

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"I noticed you weren't wearing a tie. Is it because of the weird rash you have on your neck?"

"Rash? What rash?" Arthur's hands flew to the collar of his shirt where he discovered that, in fact, he was not wearing a tie.

"Here, look," she said, pulling out a compact mirror and holding it up for him to see. Arthur squinted into the small oval of glass. Several circular red marks decorated the skin at the base of his neck, disappearing under his shirt towards his collar. Circular red marks that were dotted in much the same way human teeth were lain out. _Eames_Arthur thought. His cheeks burned as he remembered the way they started their morning. He remembered the filthy words that Eames had been whispering against his skin, recalled perfectly the way that pleasure twisted with pain as Eames bit down hard on Arthur's skin with each thrust of his hips, still felt the frustration of having to stay silent because they were in a storage closet at the warehouse and somebody could come in at any moment.

Arthur flipped the portfolio he was reading from shut. He had definitely come to work wearing a tie. _"Such a waste to cover up all that gorgeous skin,"_ Eames had said as Arthur buttoned up his shirt in the dressing table mirror. _"We can't all be chest baring heathens like you, in your polyester blend there,"_he had replied, resolutely tying a Windsor at his neck.

"I'll be right back," Arthur said to Ariadne, collecting his things in his arms.

"Where are you going?"

"I need… schematics," he mumbled and hurried off towards the storage closet. He methodically checked every shelf around the one bit of bare wall where they had been leaning and found nothing. Arthur swore and turned to leave. Eames was in his way.

"Looking for something, darling?" He asked, and Arthur knew he had taken it before he even saw it in the breast pocket of Eames' terrible coat. He made a move to grab for it, but Eames quickly backed out of the way, and out into the main warehouse.

"Get back here," Arthur hissed. "Somebody might _see_you."

"People see me all the time, Arthur, what's so wrong with that?" Eames smiled.

"They'll see you with my tie, and me with your _teeth marks_on my neck. The leap's not so hard to make after that," Arthur snapped.

"Would that be so bad?" Arthur narrowed his eyes at Eames' comment.

"Return my tie."

"Go out to lunch with me."

"No. I would like my tie back, now, if you would," Arthur said coldly, holding out his hand. They had had the same conversation dozens of times. Eames wanted to be openly and flagrantly affectionate in front of other people, namely their co-workers and Arthur would prefer if his co-workers were unsure if he even slept laying down.

Eames pulled the long piece of expensive silk from his coat pocket with a resigned sigh. Arthur smirked in triumph. But just as it seemed he had won his tie back, control of the situation quickly began to slip through his fingers. Eames put the hand with the tie in it behind his back and grasped Arthur's outstretched hand with the other.

"Eames…" Arthur said softly, warningly, but it was too late. Eames brought the hand to his mouth and gently kissed each of the knuckles in turn.

"Let me show you off, Arthur. Let me treat you the way a gentleman should treat his beloved. Stop trying to push me away," Eames said, his lips brushing against Arthur's skin with every word. Arthur felt gooseflesh pebble up on his arms and was thankful for his long sleeves to hide his reaction at the tiniest touch. He flushed in embarrassment, sure everybody was watching them.

"You don't need to woo me, Eames. I'm not some woman you need to coax into bed with platitudes," Arthur said. But he did not withdraw his hand.

"I know you're not, trust me, I know," Eames smiled broadly and squeezed Arthur's fingers. "But I want to." Arthur looked into his eyes questioningly. They had been sleeping together for the better part of a year, and Eames had never out rightly said that he wanted anything more than what their physical interaction. Even his pressure to stop keeping a secret of the fact that they were practically living together had always been purely so that they could ditch off more often. And Arthur realized this was not about neckties or lunch dates.

"You idiot," he whispered, pulling his hand free to slide it up Eames' arm to rest on the back of his neck. "You don't need to woo me, because you already have me. I'm yours." And Arthur kissed him, in the middle of the warehouse, with people - their colleagues - around, in broad daylight, with tongue.


End file.
